Home is Where You Are
by Witty Teacup
Summary: Canon, AU. Merlin's been doing his best to keep Arthur happy as newly crowned king, but after one night's screw up, the king wrongfully banishes him from the kingdom. Merlin flees the castle, and finds himself traveling as a healing warlock. During the course of two, long years, Merlin struggles to find his home once more, only to realize it's been with his king all along.


**If you haven't read the story, _What We Hope For_, don't worry, you can read this on it's own. However, if you like this, I suggest reading it as well. This is Merlin's side of the story, _What We Hope For_ is Arthur's. Enjoy!  
**

* * *

It starts with a fight.

Merlin has noticed how unusually irritable Arthur's been as of late. He doesn't know if it's from the stress of being a newly crowned king, or something else entirely, but it's really beginning to grate on his nerves. He's used to Arthur being a prat and a jerk and quite frankly an ass, but it's all in good humor, really. Now, Arthur simply snubs him, his gaze passing over him nightly as if he's no more than a ghost—completely undeserving of his attention.

He tries, though, he truly, honestly does. Even though his skills as a manservant have reached all new heights of horrible, he's been trying incredibly hard to be punctual. Sure, he still brings breakfast in late (it's unreasonable that he has to get up at the crack of dawn, because really, even Arthur doesn't get up that early, and Merlin's quite sure if he tried, Arthur would murder him brutally with his own two hands), but he does manage to get his chores done in a timely manner. It's not his best work, but Merlin has been under the impression he's been doing quite well.

He doesn't know what particularly sets Arthur off that night, but what he does know is that it happened. It's late, and after getting little sleep the night before he's felt dead on his feet the entire day. He makes the casual mistake of dropping the tray full of dirty dishes, metal clattering to the floor and the shattering of the plates echoing in his ears.

Merlin barely has time to process the wreckage because suddenly Arthur is screaming at him.

He's never seen Arthur this angry before—there's an unknown fury in his eyes. With each word that slips from his lips, Merlin feels a piece of his heart breaking, just like that plate. He starts stepping forward and Merlin can't _think_, he keeps stepping back until he hits the door because even though he knows that Arthur wouldn't hurt him, not intentionally, the look in his eyes is so terrifying that he actually _fears _for his wellbeing.

In response to his fear his magic lashes out of him without him calling upon it, tossing the table to the side. Suddenly he's imbued with a power, an adrenaline rush that tells him to fight back, and he starts yelling too, trying to make his king see _sense, _to see _reason_, but Arthur keeps rattling on as if Merlin is the core of every problem he's ever had.

The words _liar _and _traitor _and _sorcerer _spill from Arthur's lips, and Merlin is filled with an overwhelming sense of dread. He opens his mouth again, now to try and explain, to say anything to make sure Arthur doesn't hate him, but Arthur screams louder, and tells him to get out, to leave, and be gone from his sight, _"like the treacherous snake you are." _

His heart clenches, and he wants to cry, really, but Merlin bows his head, low and begging forgiveness, before he turns and leaves.

Merlin feels like he's choking as he runs back to his room.

* * *

He slips by Gaius with ease, used to having to sneak past him on nights to do things Gaius had advised against. He looks at the man who had become a father to him, and feels a pang of regret in his chest for what he's going to do.

Merlin knows he doesn't have much time. Arthur could decide to hunt him at any minute. The image of his king so upset at him, beyond anything he'd ever seen—it terrifies him. While he thought Arthur would never kill him, at least, not of his own accord, he had looked quite like he wanted to. The thought makes him sick.

He gathers his things quickly and quietly, whispering spells under his breath to tidy up. He knows it's a risk to be using magic, but Arthur already knows, so what's the harm anymore? Merlin sifts through his things and finds a piece of parchment, and writes with shaky hands,

_Gaius-_

_ He knows. I'm sorry. _

_ Goodbye. _

It's nothing, it's definitely not the kind of note Gaius deserves. Before he even realizes it, tears slip from his eyes and hit the paper, dropping onto it. He doesn't have it in him to rewrite the note, even if it's only six short words, and he leaves it be. He folds the note in his hands and makes the bed up, before setting the note on top.

Merlin glances around, one last look at the room that has been his home all these years. He's a coward, he thinks, but this is something he has to do. He needs to get away. Destiny be damned, this is what he _needs _to do.

He slings his bag over his shoulder, and slips out the door, quietly into the night.

* * *

Merlin steals a horse from the stables, if it can really be considered stealing. The horse that he takes is his in all but name, and she likes him well enough. She goes with him without a fuss, and he rides out of the gates and into the forest.

He thinks he'll head home for a while, just to clear his head. A sharp tug at his chest tells him that he won't see Will there, and it fills him with more despair than he'd felt earlier. But he rides on, feeling the chilly wind in his face, rustling through his hair, and he forces himself to forget.

Merlin rides until the horse stops on her own, clearly tired, and only then does he realize the reality of what he's done.

He makes a fire using magic, and tethering the horse to a tree, he sleeps.

* * *

He makes it to Ealdor in two days' time. The villagers all stare at him, but not out of dislike or spite, only curiosity. He hears them whispering but he pays them no mind.

When Merlin sees his mother, she drops the wood she was carrying and pulls him into an embrace. She whispers into his skin, patting at his face, a look of love and relief washing over her features, as it always does.

But then she frowns, and asks him why he isn't with Arthur.

Merlin cries into his mother's arms, and she soothes him, as if he's a young boy again.

He thinks maybe he is.

* * *

Merlin stays for two weeks. It's longer than he'd intended to stay for, but it feels nice to be back in the fields again. The villagers take to him more keenly than they ever had before, and they're especially kind.

It makes him feel a little bit better about the whole ordeal.

Arthur never comes looking for him, nor does he send anyone after him.

He doesn't know why that hurts.

* * *

On the third week, he leaves his mother. She shoves a pack of food into his arms, hugs him and kisses his cheek, and tells him to stay safe. She tells him to visit soon.

The look in her eyes tells him that she wants him to go back to Camelot, but he _can't_, not yet.

Merlin sets out towards Gawant, because it's unfamiliar and a change of scenery could be just what he needs.

* * *

Merlin idly listens to gossip about Camelot when it's available. People rarely talk about other kingdoms in these places, but even the rubbish gossip is worth listening to, in his opinion.

Gawant is more magic-friendly than the other kingdoms he's been to, and whilst he doesn't openly display his magic, he does use his talents for simple things, like healing.

He happens upon a village around the outer edge of the kingdom, and the people there are friendly and wonderful and everything he's ever wanted. They're a very close-knit community, and they welcome him with opens arms, as if they already know he's in need of a good time.

Merlin heals a sick boy on his first night there. He shows him fire dragons in his hands and tells him stories of his days in Camelot, about the Knights of the Round Table and the wonderful things the king will do.

It doesn't bother him to speak highly of Arthur—he may be a little broken but that doesn't mean he still doesn't think the best of his king. He knows Arthur has a good heart, if not a little stubborn, and watching how the boy's face lights up in joy, proclaiming that he wants to be a knight someday too, it all seems worth it.

It warms his heart.

* * *

He leaves a week afterwards. The village wishes him well and tell him that he's always welcome to come back.

* * *

The days have melded into weeks, and those weeks have melded into months. It's been months since he left Camelot.

He's lost count of how many.

* * *

Merlin continues to visit small villages in all the five kingdoms, and sometimes larger ones if he feels brave. Some are more skeptical of him than others, but he usually keeps his head down and doesn't cause a ruckus, so people can't say much.

He continues to use his powers to heal, and he finds it ironic, almost, considering he can't even heal himself.

He laughs bitterly about it, because in Gaius' sharp words, there's no cure for heartsick.

* * *

It takes him a while, but Merlin finally admits softly to himself in the darkness of the house he's staying in that he loves Arthur with all his heart.

Every broken piece.

* * *

Merlin realizes only later that his reputation has surpassed him. Apparently people have taken to calling him The Phantom Healer, the sorcerer who cures all ill, and leaves as quick as he comes.

Eventually, he starts to introduce himself as such, and it's funny because it reminds him of the Druids and their habit of calling him Emrys.

It takes Merlin a while, as he treads the lines of Camelot's borders, to see the flash of red cloaks and golden dragons, galloping on horses all around. He usually sees Lancelot, or Gwaine, their shoulders straight, confident, but their eyes sad and despairing. He watches them often, and how they mutter quietly to themselves, how, _"We'll never find him_,_" _and _"He'd never leave Arthur," _and _"Well then where the hell is he?"_

He wants to go to them, to laugh and say he has no idea what he's been doing, and ask them to take him home, but he _can't_. The words lodge themselves in Merlin's throat and he stays hidden, cloaked under a spell.

Merlin doesn't even pretend he's not disappointed when he never sees Arthur looking for him, too.

* * *

Months turn to many more months, and those months add up eventually to years. It's been over a year now since he left Camelot, his friends, his destiny, his _everything_.

He thinks of blond hair, blue eyes, and secret smiles and he cries for the first time in a while.

* * *

While on his travels in Mercia, Merlin catches word of the ban on magic being lifted.

His heart swells in his chest, and every part of him is screaming with joy, and his feet desperately long to take off running, to run to Camelot and not stop until he gets there, but he holds himself firm.

Merlin convinces himself it doesn't mean anything, and that Arthur isn't doing it for him.

_Who else would it be for? _His mind supplies traitorously, and it's then he notices he doesn't have an answer.

* * *

He continues throughout his days getting confirmation on the ban. Part of him believes that he dreamed it all up, and that no such thing happened.

The closer he nears Camelot, the more accurate the stories become.

The blacksmith tells him he can't believe it's happened.

The old woman shakes her head, smiling softly like she's remembering something beautiful.

The young boy grins from ear to ear, telling him it's true, it's all true.

The minute Merlin steps into Camelot's lands, he feels the pieces of his heart molding together once more.

* * *

Merlin travels slowly back towards the castle, and in that time, that one year turns to two. It doesn't feel like it's been that long, but at the same time it feels as if he's been away for an eternity. The land sings to him as he roams the forest, so happy that Emrys has returned.

He thinks of Arthur and how he'll react, and if he's a little scared, he doesn't care.

He _needs _to see him again. Even if it's to hear Arthur banish him for good.

* * *

Merlin's reputation reaches the castle before he even arrives.

When he passes through the gates, his horse tailing along side him, a few people gawk, some just stare, and other smiles brightly.

It's comforting, at least.

* * *

He does what he always does. He heals those who need it, and entertains small children, more openly now considering magic is no longer banned, and he hides himself from the knights.

Gwaine finds him later, and if Merlin's changed at all, Gwaine doesn't notice because he pulls him into a fierce hug, hissing into his ear for him to, _"never do that again." _

Merlin, so overwhelmed by the feeling of someone familiar holding him, he hugs him back, and promises.

* * *

Likewise, he makes Gwaine promise not to tell Arthur he's here.

Gwaine has always been Merlin's friend before Arthur's knight. He agrees.

* * *

He slips into Arthur's room that night, evading the guards. He wants to laugh at how they're just as useless as always, and it's embarrassing to think that he left Arthur unprotected for so long in their care.

Merlin knows Arthur is awake, and he also knows that he knows he's there. But Merlin doesn't speak, just watches his silhouetted figure in the darkness.

* * *

It becomes a cycle. He keeps himself mostly hidden during the day, and every night he goes to Arthur's room, to watch him, to wait, to see if he'll do anything, or say anything.

Merlin is sure that Arthur knows it's him.

_Coward_, he used to think, about how Arthur wouldn't face him.

But then he amends it by realizing he is just as much of a coward as he.

* * *

One night, Arthur finally forces himself to look at him.

So surprised that he's finally done it, Merlin takes in a sharp breath, blue eyes staring at him blankly. Merlin can't suppress the smile that curls onto his lips.

He finds his voice somehow, renewed strength filling him. "Was waiting for you to stir," he says coolly, carefully, choosing his words with great care. "You're always awake when I come."

Arthur says nothing. No surprise.

"You lifted the ban on magic. Bold of you. _Brave_ of you, I should say. Your father is turning in his grave, I'm sure," he continues, the words now heavy on his tongue. He waits for Arthur to get angry, but it never comes. "Was that your way of apologizing?"

Merlin lets out a quiet sigh, then, smiling gently, staring down at the messy mop of blond hair, and he notices how tired Arthur looks. Not just physically, but mentally, too. He steps closer, and Arthur tenses. He doesn't back up.

"I just wanted you to know that..." he begins, suddenly at a loss. "I don't hate you. I never did, and I never could. I overreacted that night. But I couldn't bring myself to go back. I thought after how angry you were, you'd kill me. I was scared."

Merlin drops his gaze, and his voice trembles now. Arthur has always been able to sap the courage from him, because in truth he thinks Arthur is ever the only one who's truly mattered, who's opinion he wanted more than anyone else's. He idly waits for Arthur's verdict, but it doesn't come.

"I'll go. That's all I wanted to tell you."

It isn't all he wants to say, but he can't say anymore. It hurts too much. Tomorrow he'll leave. Gwaine will be angry, but he doesn't care, he needs to get away again, and this time, not come back, no matter how badly he wants to.

He begins to move away, but Arthur's arm shoots out and grabs him, and for a horrifying second he thinks Arthur has ill intent towards him. However, slowly Arthur wraps his arms around his waist, sitting up and pulling him closer, squeezing his fingers to clench the fabric of his cloak.

"Stay with me," Arthur chokes, and it's in a voice Merlin doesn't recognize as Arthur's own. It's small, weak, and afraid, but desperate and Merlin's heart aches as Arthur repeats, "Stay with me."

He's never been able to deny Arthur anything, not really, and Merlin thinks he might be crying. He melts into the embrace, and returns it, carefully wrapping his arms around him too. He runs his fingers through his blond locks, smoothing it down.

"Okay," he whispers, his heart thumping rapidly in his chest. "Okay."

Merlin's pretty sure he's probably crying too, but it doesn't matter to him anymore. All he can think is that he's here, he's back, and he's in Arthur's arms and he'll be damned if he _ever_ leaves again.

He's not entirely sure how long they stay this way, but Arthur's words, his apologizes are clear, and Merlin replies just as crystal, just as sincere.

It's not perfect, but he's home again and that's all that really matters.

* * *

**So I had a lot of people ask me to do a companion story to _What We Hope For _because people were curious about what Merlin did for the two years while he was away from Arthur. I finally complied a few weeks ago, and I've finally got around to posting it here. **

**I had a lot of fun writing this, to be honest. I kept it in the same style and tried my best to line up all the details and keep the timeline in the appropriate order. Some of it might be a little fuzzy, so sorry, if it seems that way.**

**But regardless, thank you very much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this. **


End file.
